


Saying Goodbye

by west00



Category: Men's Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Bromance, Gen, Hockey, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/west00/pseuds/west00
Summary: Written back when Sharpy got traded to Dallas and how I imagined he had say goodbye to his fave rookie, Jonny Toews. Only rated T for language! Bromance fic.





	Saying Goodbye

"Hey." 

Patrick can tell right away that Jonny's choosing to ignore him; he watches Tazer as he grabs his gym bag from his locker, slamming the door shut before settling onto the bench to tie up his shoes. 

If he's honest with himself, this trade has hit Patrick harder than he'd imagined. His chest has been sort of tight since he heard the news. He can't remember if he's even cracked a true smile since getting that call a few days ago. Leaving this team.... and this rookie sitting in front of him... who's really not such a rook anymore... it hurts his heart. it's something he hasn't allowed himself to think since the rumours started and he doesn't want to let his guard down now either. He's supposed to be the positive example, the leader. Gotta keep his chin up when everyone else's is down. He was the assistant fucking captain of this team, and a self-declared pain in the ass of a teammate. These guys are his friends, his coworkers, his team. But when it comes to Tazer, he feels something deeper, always has. Jonny is the closest thing to the younger brother that he's never had. Patrick could never walk away without at least saying a real goodbye to the kid. 

"So you're not talking to me?" Patrick frowns, arms crossed as he corners Jonny. He takes a glance around the room, making sure nobody's around to interrupt this. Jonny's expression is stone cold. The best 'I couldn't give less fucks' face that he can muster up. Intense, and unwavering. "It's very mature of you," Patrick eggs him on a little, throwing his least favourite nickname. "Toes."

With a final yank of his laces, Jonny only shrugs, not taking the bait. "Not much to say," he mumbles, reaching across to shove his sweaty clothes in his bag. 

"No?" 

"Nope. You're leaving," Jonny's voice is low and rough. "970 miles away." 

Patrick nods. No question about it, the contract is already signed and sealed. But the thought sets a small lump in his throat. Of all the people he was worried about facing, this one was only second to his wife. "Yeah. Did you google that?"

The corners of Jon's lips curve upwards, more of a grimace than anything else. With a smack of his thighs, Jonny shoots up, stepping to the left then the right when Patrick tries to block him. At the last second, he throws his bag over his shoulder and prepares to barrel straight on through. Their eyes meet for the first time since Patrick walked in, and all he gets is a sharp nod. 

"Later," Jonny says coldly. Sharpy feels it deep in his gut. 

But before he can make it very far, Patrick spins around and catches him by the arm. "Hey," he yanks a little to pull him back, and then does it again when he's ignored.

Jon tries to shake out of his grip. "Fuck off! Seriously," He practically growls. His cheeks are going a shade of red and his eyebrows are furrowed -- that's how Patrick knows he's gonna break. He doesn't let go, and doesn't let go again through the continued struggle. There's a reason this kid is captain of the Chicago Blackhawks; he's fucking strong.

"Jonny --."

"Christ, what the hell?" Jonny asks eventually, giving up the fight. "What do you WANT?"

When Jonny finally looks up at him, it's then that Patrick really gets it. Behind those narrowed, angry eyes, was a face full of sadness and disappointment. Like he just played a really terrible night of hockey, when every single shot missed the net. When he's had a no-goal streak across 10 games. It's like he just lost in the Stanley Cup Final. Game 7. 

Frustrated, exhausted, and hurt. 

"I want you to stand still for 5 fucking seconds so we can talk," Patrick orders, trying to steady him out. Suddenly all he could see was the green little rookie who landed in the middle of the NHL 8 years ago with a set of broad shoulders, a goofy smile, and the most unreasonable set of expectations for himself Sharpy had ever seen. Patrick remembers the nights early on when Jonny wouldn't go home at the end of the game without saying goodnight to him, checking in on the choices he made during the game or the quotes he made to the media. Jonny leaned on him for advice and reassurance more times than either could count. 

He'd never forget the way this kid looked up to him in those first few years. Patrick felt needed, like a true leader, for the first time in his career. Jonny and Kaner, these kids changed his life, gave him a shot on the map as an elite player. Never in Patrick's life did he imagine having 3 cups. For that? He'd be forever grateful. 

"It's not like I have a choice here, Tazer...," he says seriously but softly, breaking the silence, and watching as Jonny begins shaking his head like he doesn't wanna hear it. Patrick feels like he's betraying him in the worst way, and he can't do a thing about it. 

When he takes a step away, Patrick grabs his arm once more. "Jonny," He stops and glances back. His eyes are glistening now, he blinks rapidly to cover it up, Sharpy recognizes that right away. "Talk to me, buddy."

After rubbing a hand over his entire face, spending a little extra time around the eyes, Jonathan finally speaks. "How --," he stops, takes in a breath. He's clearly trying to suck it up. Trying to pretend he's perfectly fine, and mostly failing. "How am I supposed to--."

Patrick lowers himself down on the bench behind them and nods for Jonny to join him. The room is empty otherwise; it's a off-day for them yet Jonny's here, of course. This kid's dedication has made Patrick question his own since day one. "Come on," Patrick nods. 

Eventually, Jonathan gives in and sits, leaning forward with his elbows against his thighs, his head hanging low. 

"You gonna be alright, kid?"

"I guess," he shrugs, sniffling quietly. "I have to be, right?"

"Look, you're basically a vet now," Patrick smiles, nudging Jonny's knee with his own. "Three Cups? You're supposed to be taking over for me and torturing the new rooks," for that, Sharpy gets a small grin. "Besides, part of me thought you'd be relieved to get rid of me."

"Well, that's cause you're a bad friend," Jonny laughs quietly after, like he's remembering all the ridiculous shit he'd experienced over the years. 

They laugh together deep and hearty, before it ends up silent once again. Then they sit there for a while, just thinking. Patrick looks up, takes in the room; the lights, the colours, remembers the Cup celebration they had a few weeks ago. He's had the best of days and worst of days ending in this room. 

He hears Jonny's throat clear. "I'm really gonna miss you," Jonny murmurs, sounding a little embarrassed. "I've never done this without you. You've been here all along, everyday."

Patrick sighs and feels a lump in his throat forming. "I know," he whispers in understanding. He needs to stand before he lets it go any further, placing a hand on Jonny's shoulder so he'll stand and hug him good and properly. "I'm gonna miss you too," he admits when he pulls him in. "Take care of yourself, Tazer." 

"Love you man," Jon says quietly. 

Patrick feels some wetness on his shoulder a few moments later, but doesn't say anything. Patrick wants to tell him it'll never be the same without him either. That regardless of where he's traded, he'll never forget what they had here. That as much as he can fake it to the media, he doesn't want to leave this family they have. But none of that would make it better, none of it would stop the tears forming in his eyes. Patrick knows he has to lead. Like always. "I love you too, buddy," is all he says instead, before squeezing Jonny just a little tighter, "Only be a phone call away." he promises, maybe more for himself than for Jonny.


End file.
